


The Shirt

by greenmage128



Series: Tumblr Drabbles [10]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Sharing Clothes, and of course there are Twitter shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-03
Updated: 2014-06-03
Packaged: 2018-02-03 05:42:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1733177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenmage128/pseuds/greenmage128
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mark should be more careful about what he packs for cons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Shirt

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted June 1, 2014. Prompted by [Manda](http://monoxidegirl.tumblr.com), 'cause we were both rolling in Shepeight feels over the con weekend. Warning: Most of this was written in late night delirium. Proceed with caution.

Mark stumbled out of Richard’s room at five in the morning, hardly two hours of sleep under his belt and still smelling like alcohol and Richard’s cologne. His body protested the action, until he was back in his own room and under the spray of a hot shower. He fell into bed afterwards, not bothering to dry off or curl up under the covers, and got a bit more sleep.

At eight his second alarm went off, and Mark still felt groggy and incoherent, the extra rest, lonely as it was, having done nothing for him. He pulled on the first shirt and pants he found in his bag, a pair of jeans and a black, long-sleeved shirt that was almost comforting in its familiarity, if a bit snug. Under normal circumstances he might’ve questioned it, but he was too tired and didn’t have the time to dwell on it.

Richard met him at the elevator, looking far too chipper considering they got roughly the same amount of sleep. “Hey,” he said, an affectionate smile pulling at his lips. “You look like hell.”

“I just need coffee,” Mark said, and though he really didn’t need to say it, he added, “Among other things.”

The elevator arrived, and the exact second the doors closed Richard was wrapping an arm around his waist and resting his head on Mark’s shoulder.

Mark returned the embrace, pressing a kiss to Richard’s hair. “You’re going to get us caught.”

“Don’t really care.” Richard nuzzled his neck and then pulled back, an eyebrow raised. “Wait. Is that my shirt?”

“No, I—” And then it clicked in his brain, because it _was_ Richard’s, and only now was he awake enough to remember. “Damn it.”

Richard shrugged and went back to cuddling him, playing with the hem of the shirt. “It’ll be fine. No one’ll notice. Hell, I almost didn’t.”

“Right.” Mark forced out a breath, because he really didn’t have the energy to argue. Besides, it wasn’t as though the shirt was obvious, no logos or anything for people to recognize. Just a basic, black shirt.

The rest of the elevator ride down was quiet, and Mark almost fell asleep to the sound of Richard’s breathing and awful jazz music pouring out of the tinny speaker above them. They parted before the doors opened, making their way to the hotel restaurant with friendly distance between them.

Sebastian looked up from his phone as they sat down at the table, one eyebrow raised.

“What?” Mark asked.

The Frenchman shook his head and went back to his phone. “Nothing, nothing at all.”

Mark shot Richard a look. Richard elbowed him in reply. “Of course not.”

A few minutes later Misha and Osric arrived, followed shortly by a waiter, who also came bearing coffee. Mark had never been happier to see a carafe in his life.

While they were waiting on their orders, Osric checked Twitter and read out some choice tweets in their current con’s hashtag. He stopped short when he switched back to his timeline, biting his lip in an obvious attempt to hide a grin. “Isn’t it a little early to be tweeting, Seb?”

Sebastian smirked. “Never.”

Misha leaned to look at Osric’s phone over his shoulder, one corner of his lips quirked. “For that, I’d say definitely not.”

Narrowing his eyes, Mark pulled out his own phone and pulled up Twitter. Sure enough, there was Sebastian’s tweet, accompanied by a picture of Mark and Richard from ten minutes ago (how the hell did he take it without them noticing?).

_@sebroche: I believe this is called a “sexy shirt switch.” Oh, the intrigue! @Mark_Sheppard @dicksp8jr_

Mark didn’t even bother berating Sebastian. He turned to Richard. “I fucking told you.”

It was then that Osric and Misha’s control broke, and they both started giggling like madmen.

“No, it’s not funny. Stop laughing,” Mark said, though it was useless. To make it worse, Sebastian’s smirk became a grin, an expression Richard mirrored after he read the tweet.

“Actually it kind of is.” Richard nudged his shoulder, grin wide enough to split his face in two.

That was all it took, and Mark found himself smiling. He sent out a reply and resumed enjoying his coffee.

Sebastian’s phone went off, and he laughed when he checked the alert. He raised his glass to Mark. “Oh, absolutely, darling.”

Richard snatched Mark’s phone away to read the offending tweet.

_@Mark_Sheppard: @sebroche @dicksp8jr Jealous are we?_

“As you should be,” Richard said, relaxing and leaning against Mark’s side. Quieter, he asked, “Still regret the shirt?”

“Yes.” Mark squeezed his hand under the table. “But ask me again later, when I’m not wearing it.”

“I’m going to hold you to that.”

“I hope so.”


End file.
